The Great Love Game
by Blue TARDIS Everdeen
Summary: This takes place after A Scandal in Belgravia. Sherlock/John, Sherlock/Molly, Molly/Lestrade. Sherlock is just getting over Irene, then he remembers about Molly. Madness ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! So this is a fic in response to A Scandal in Belgravia. There is one scene in particular with Sherlock/Molly, so I decided to go further with it.

Enjoy!

Blue TARDIS Everdeen

Chapter 1: The Approach

"Sherlock, seriously, you know Molly has had a crush on you for ages now," John said, sitting down on the sofa with a cup of tea.

The tall detective promptly stopped pacing to interject with a "So?"

"So just go out with her. Just once. For me?" The army doctors blue eyes locked with Sherlock's greenish-grey ones, pleading.

"Fine. I will go to St. Bart's now and ask her," he said, grabbing his coat and scarf.

"Tell me how it goes!"

He walked down the steps and out the door, and called for a taxi. The whole ride over to the morgue, he contemplated on what to say.

He was so caught up on thinking, he hadn't noticed that the cab had stopped.

"Sir," the cabbie said. "SIR!"

"What?"

"We are here," the cabbie said, clearly irritated.

"Oh, right. My apologies," he said, as he shut the door, and headed to the door where, for the first time, Sherlock Holmes was going to ask someone out.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Rejection

Meanwhile, Molly Hooper was in the ladies room, putting on lipstick. _I really hope Sherlock's coming today_. She said to herself_. I wonder if he likes this shade of red. _

As soon as she walked out, she spotted the handsome Detective Inspector from Scotland Yard. _Hmm, I wonder what he's doing here._

Upon seeing the pretty doctor, Greg Lestrade immediately straightened, adjusting his jacket.

"Hello, Detective Inspector," Molly said, coming towards him.

"Please, call me Greg."

"Okay. Greg." She said, reddening a little.

"I was wondering, maybe later, if you're not busy, would you like to go to dinner? Just the two of us?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I would like that. A lot." She smiled.

"Great! So see you later, around sixish? I'll pick you up."

"It's a date," she said with a wink.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Rejection

Sherlock found Molly examining a body in one of the labs. His knock on the door startled her.

"Oh! Sherlock! Please, come in."

"So what's the story?" he said, nodding towards the body.

"42. Car Crash. Nasty gash on his head, right here." She said, pointing to the body's temple.

"Ouch. That must have hurt. Say, Molly, I was wondering….."

Just then, Greg came in the door. "Molly, are you ready to go?" he said, putting an arm around her.

"Yes, I was just finishing up."

"Oh hello Sherlock! I didn't see you there."

"Obviously not," the detective said, coldly.

"You coming?" Lestrade said, turning towards the door.

"Yes, just a moment." She said, putting her scalpel away. "You were saying, Sherlock?"

"I was going to say have fun on your date." He was playing absentmindedly with the ends of his scarf.

"Oh. Well, thank you."

"No Problem. I will leave you to it, then. Would want to keep _him_ waiting," he said, and with a swish of his coat, strode out the door.

On the cab ride home, he was scolding himself. "Damnit Sherlock! Why is she going out with that Idiot? I must keep an eye on them!"

Later, when he heard Sherlock coming up the stairs, John shouted: "Well? How did it go?"

One look on the detective's face said it all. "Ok, what happened?"

"Two words John: Greg. Lestrade."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Stakeout

The Fox is a very posh restaurant, by the Shad Sanderson bank. Molly and Greg were sitting in a corner booth. He had on his favorite tie, and a new suit. She had on a black dress, with rhinestone earrings and her hair was curled. They both were having a good time.

"Sherlock, this is ridiculous! May I ask WHY we are doing this?"

They were both dressed in brown suits, John with a red tie, and Sherlock with a blue. They were both wearing wigs and fake moustaches.

"I told you, this is for a case! Now shut up."

They took a booth at the far end of the restaurant. "May I ask what "case" this is for?" he was tugging at his wig. "This thing is too bloody itchy!"

"It's for…..It's for a case my brother put me on."

"You made me cancel a date….for a bloody case?"

"Oh be quiet. She wasn't right for you, anyway. Just keep your eyes on the right corner."

"What's in the right corner?" he said, turning around. "A murderer? A criminal mastermind...Oh!" he exclaimed. "Why are Lestrade and Molly here?"

"Oh well I suppose they are! What a surprise!"

"Oh stop it. You knew they were here the whole time, didn't you?"

"Yes, now could we please drop the matter?"

"Oh no. This is too good not to. Wait until I blog about this! This is bloody hilarious!"

"Please don't John. I don't want my reputation ruined because I got a little jealous over a woman."

"A LITTLE JEALOUS? You followed her on her date! You dressed up in a disguise! You are a jealous little sod!"

"John, please keep your voice down! People are starting to stare," he said, looking around warily.

"People do little else." John said, mimicking Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Lestrade and Molly were just placing their orders when they heard a man from across the restaurant shouting.

"What's gotten into him? And what is with the weird moustache?" Lestrade asked, sipping his wine.

"I don't know, maybe he got the wrong food?"

"Who knows, who knows."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The Chase

A little while later, after all of the commotion died down…

"Say, Molly, how about we go back to my flat?" Greg placed his hand on hers.

"Isn't your wife home?"

"Oh no, she went out with some of her mates for a "girls night." "They won't be back for a while."

"Ok then, if you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure, come on!" He put money on the table, Molly grabbed her coat, and they were out the door.

Meanwhile, in Sherlock and John's corner…..

"Sherlock, I think they're gone." John said, pointing.

"What? How can they be gone?" Sherlock said, wincing as he peeled off his moustache.

"They are Sherlock. THEY. ARE. GONE."

"Impossible! Come John, we MUST find them!" He threw money on the table, grabbed his coat, and nearly knocked over the waiter.

"Sorry!" John yelled over his shoulder, as he was being literally DRAGGED by the detective. "Sherlock!" he said, laughing. "For the love of God, SLOW DOWN!"

"Damn! We lost them! Thanks a lot, John."

"What? What could I POSSIBLY have done?" he said, incredulously.

"Everything, John, Everything."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: The Realization

"Sherlock, would you please just get over it?" John said, shouting over the sound of Sherlock playing a fast melody on his violin. "Please?" His please sounded deafening in the silence after he stopped playing.

"I'm sorry, John. You were saying?"

"Why do I even bother?" he said, putting his head in his hands. "You never listen to me anyway."

"Don't be stupid. I value your opinion highly. Really." He sat down behind his desk after setting down his violin. "I just can't believe she chose him over me! She could have done so much better!"

"Look, Sherlock, instead of sulking and being an arse about it, could you at least be supportive of Molly? She has finally found someone who loves her, and HOPEFULLY won't leave her like Jim did. That bastard. Then again, I didn't really think he could keep up that act for that long."

"He's a criminal mastermind. He could be watching us at any moment."

"That's a pleasant feeling."

"Anyway, John, I don't know how I would be "supportive" of her, if I was never her friend in the first place," he said, striding over to look at the skull on the mantle. "I don't know why I'm getting so worked up about this love nonsense." He turned on his heel, and sat on the couch, his head in his hands.

John got up, and kneeled in front of Sherlock.

"Sherlock," he said, taking the tall detective's face in his rough hands. "You know you always have me." His blue eyes looked into Sherlock's green-grey ones.

"Yes, yes I do. And you are fantastic." He leaned forward, and caught John's mouth with his. It was a warm, sweet, soft kiss. It said more than words ever could.

~~~Author's Note: Yay! This is my first fully slashy moment in any of my fics. I hope I did it justice. Thanks for all of your support and reviews! There will be more chapters!

Thanks,

Blue TARDIS Everdeen ~~~


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: The Showdown

John felt the side of the bed for the familiar shape of his flat mate. All he felt was the sheet.

"Sherlock!" He called sleepily. "What are you doing? What time is it?"

"It's half-past seven. I have to go to St. Bart's. Molly texted me and said that they had some new arrivals." He yelled from the other room. All John could see were shirts being carelessly thrown around.

"I'm not cleaning that up again!"

"I don't expect you to," he said, coming out in a pair of black trousers, a blue shirt, and a black blazer. "Don't expect me back for lunch." He grabbed his coat and scarf from the rack, and went out the door.

_I really have to get used to this. It's not normal to get up this bloody early._ John thought to himself.

Outside Baker Street, Sherlock hailed a cab. "Saint Bartholomew's Morgue." He told the cabbie. He was turning a small box in his hand. It had blue wrapping paper, with a red bow. _I really hope she will like this,_ he thought. When he arrived, he got out of the cab, paid the man, and adjusted his coat collar. "Here goes," he said. He pushed open the door. He walked right pas the reception desk. He knew where Molly would be. He was right. She was in a lab on the top floor, looming over a newly dead body.

"Hey Molly." He said, opening the door. "Is that a new one?"

"Yes, yes it is. Would you like to take a look?" She said, pulling back the sheet with a flourish.

"Yes, of course. But first, here." He thrust the small box into her hands. "Happy Birthday, Molly."

She opened the box. "Oh Sherlock, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. Inside the box was a silk scarf, embroidered with gold thread.

"I had some help, as I usually don't buy presents."

"It's lovely. Thank you. To tell you the truth, I didn't think you would remember my birthday." She put the scarf around her neck.

"Why would I forget that?" He leaned in close to her. "It's very important." He leaned in more until their noses almost touched, then kissed her. It was surprising to Molly at first, and then she let the moment consume her, dropping the box to run her fingers through his thick curly hair.

_He is a good kisser. Much better than Greg. I don't ever want this to stop. _

"What the HELL is going on here?" a voice said. They pulled apart and whirled around. Molly looked guilty, but Sherlock just looked annoyed.

"Oh Lestrade, it's you. I was just…"

"I know PERFECTLY well what you were doing." He said angrily. "You were trying to get with Molly. You bastard." He swung to punch Sherlock, but he caught his hand mid-swing.

"I have you know I was trained in Judo. I don't want to have to fight you. But I am positive I could kick your arse." They lunged for each other, pinning each other on the ground and rolling around.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Another voice said. There, standing in the doorway, was John. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Sherlock was kissing my girlfriend. Hasn't anyone told him it's bad to do that to another man's girlfriend? Especially one of their mates'?" He was being pulled down again by Sherlock.

"Oh I would hardly call you a mate, Greg. I was just merely experimenting, as I've never kissed a woman before."

"Experimenting my arse." Lestrade said, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. "You stupid bastard!"

"Alright, alright, that's enough. Break it up!" John said, pulling Sherlock off of the detective inspector. "Now Greg, you stand here, and Sherlock, you stand there." They were facing each other, with John in the middle. "Let's settle this like men shall we?" he said with his military voice.

"But….he…" They said in unison.

John put up his hand to stop them. "One at a time please. Sherlock, you go first."

"Yeah, you would pick him first." Lestrade said with a huff.

All it took was one glare from John to shut him up. "Go on, Sherlock."

"As I was trying to tell this Idiot before, it was merely an experiment. I knew today was Molly's birthday, and I wanted to give her my present."

All of the men turned and looked at Molly. "Is that true?" John asked her. "Is today really your birthday?"

"Yes, it is." She was huddled in the corner, where she moved to when Sherlock and Greg started fighting.

"Well then, Happy Birthday."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I revised this chapter, before I had the Master from David Tennant's doctor, but in this I have a new one now. See if you can guess who I am describing. This whole chapter is Post-Reichenbach. I will be using a part from one of my friend's (TARDIS Blue Carbuncle) stories in this chapter. This has some character injuring and some minor swearing. **

**Enjoy!**

**Blue TARDIS Everdeen**

_Chapter Five: The Reckoning_

"Who do you think I am? What did I even need you for? " The tall, powerful man said to the prisoner. He wasn't a very violent looking man, but he made up for that by using his height to his advantage. He had short, curly strawberry blonde hair, and he was dressed in black jeans and a black sweatshirt. Over his right eye there was a black eye patch made of plastic; his other eye was blue. He never took off the eye patch, as it was his form of power and protection. Over the past couple of years since he regenerated, he became one of the most powerful men in Britain. Everybody loved him and wanted to be him.

He was currently sipping tea from a mug; his feet propped up on the table. They were in one of the most top-secret facilities in the whole universe, Demon's Run. It was an old army base that he claimed as his. The "medical rooms" as they were called, were really cells for the prisoners of war. His staff would do absolutely horrid things to them, like test out new alien diseases and illnesses in those rooms. They were painted an excruciatingly bright white, so bright it gave you a headache when you first walked in. Some of them would never see the outside world again.

He started building an army, arming them with advanced technology beyond their time, to prepare them for the ultimate battle. He was always disappointed, for he never had the ultimate weapon against his enemy. He armed them with knowledge of their enemy's tricks; he wanted to remain one step ahead of him at all times.

He pushed a button on the table, and out stepped a violent looking man, with long black hair that hung over one eye, and a scar running across his cheek. He came up beside the tall man, and put his hand on his shoulder. "This is Sebastian Moran. He cleans up after me and is one hell of a good shot." He patted the taller man's arm. "He came to me after his other boss, that idiot Jim Moriarty, apparently shot himself in the head. Poor sod." He said in a sarcastic voice, smiling up at the man.

"I do my best." He walked over to the corner of the room to get his gun, which was leaning up against the wall.

The shorter man held up his hand to shield his mouth and whispered to his prisoner: "And he looks good in a suit."

"I heard that, boss."

"It was meant for you to hear." He waved Sebastian back over, wrapping his short arms around the taller one's waist. Seb ruffled the shorter man's hair, and then patted his strawberry blonde head. "What do you want me to do to our prisoner, boss?" He rubbed his hand tenderly along the barrel of his gun. "Shot through the temple? The heart?" He smiled an evil smile in the direction of the prisoner, his teeth a bright white and sharpened to a point; fang-like.

The tall man took his heels off the table and stood to look at the prisoner. When touched, the prisoner winced; not because of the coldness of his hands, but because of the gashes that covered her face and arms. The Master (or Ben as he called himself these past few years) had made sure that Sebastian had made the prisoner at home. "Hmm…..what SHALL I do with you, Miss Pond?" He said in a thinking voice, tracing his fingers along her jaw line, making her squirm uncomfortably in her chair.

"You can't do anything. You don't know what's coming for you now. He will find me and save me." She was a fighter; she wouldn't give up without a fight. She was born in Scotland, and had a very pronounced accent, though she was beaten so badly her speech was slurred. She had fiery red hair to match. She wrenched free of the grip the blonde haired man had on her wrist. "You killed my husband and his best friend. He will certainly destroy you."

"Who? That Madman with a box you call the Doctor? I could kill him in my sleep." He laughed maniacally, with Seb joining him.

"I'm not talking about the Doctor. I'm talking about John Watson." The blonde haired man's face paled. "I hear you took his daughter just like you took mine. And so help me I will protect her at all costs. I made a promise." She wrenched free of the ropes that bound her and lunged forward and tried to tackle the short man, but was grabbed by the neck from behind.

"Thank you Sebastian. May I do the honors?"

"Certainly boss." Sebastian lowered the red-haired girl slightly, so the short man could get a better view.

The curly-haired man slowly circled the red haired woman, looking up at her. "Tick Tock goes the clock, as the old Gallifreyan poem says." He patted Sebastian on the shoulder. "Tick Tock goes the clock, until the Master kills the Doctor." He said in a singsong voice. "Tick Tock goes the clock, and all too soon, you will surely DIE!" With those words, Amy's eyes widened with horror, and then hardened.

"Don't be too sure you can stop him." Her voice came out strangled due to Sebastian's vice-like grip.

"I'll most certainly be looking forward to it." He pulled a long knife from his back pocket; its blade glinting in the harsh light. "Don't worry dear. This won't hurt a bit." He plunged the knife into her flesh, just below the spot where her shirt met her trousers. "Oops, sorry dear," he said, as he pulled out the knife sharply. "I lied." Seb dropped Amy in to a pile into the ground, and walked away, his gun swinging. The shorter man kneeled next to his victim and whispered: "Any last words before Sebby here finishes you off?" His breath was cold on her ear; his voice even colder.

"Yes," Amy said, clenching her side. "Run. Demons run. When a good man goes to war."

**Author's Note: I feel so bad for injuring Amy! Oh well. I hope you enjoyed this!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: A lot of you probably were wondering how I was going to tie this all back to the story…well, I think I did a good, (but rather sad) job. This is Post-Reichenbach (unfortunately). Please review and enjoy! I want to thank TARDIS Blue Carbuncle for all of her support and readings of my mad fan fictions. **

**Blue TARDIS Everdeen**

_Chapter Nine: Once Upon A Dream_

"Don't you DARE touch him, you stupid piece of scrap metal!" John was pinned to the floor of the examination room; debris on top of him from the result of a misfired laser.

"YOU ARE TRAPPED," said a cold, metallic, emotionless voice. "YOU WILL NOT GET TO HIM IN TIME." The voice moved into the light; it bounced off of the gleaming metal of the creature's head. It looked like a metal man; its eyes merely holes. It slowly moved toward the other side of the room where Sherlock was lying; chained to a hospital bed with wires attached to his pale skin.

"Wha…? John? JOHN?" Sherlock said, his eyes opening. When he didn't see his friend immediately, he struggled to sit up; chains straining, voice rising. "John? John! Where are you?"

"Here Sherlock! I'm here!" Sherlock's head turned toward John's voice.

"John….where are we? And what's happening?"

"Sherlock….don't you remember?" John said; concern etched on his face.

"No John. I can't. It's like it's been erased."

"That's because of me," said a woman's voice. She stepped beside Sherlock.

"Ah, Madame Kovarian. It's a pleasure to see you again," he said coldly. "I've always enjoyed your….'experiments'."

"And I enjoy torturing you." She said, pushing a button on Sherlock's "bed." "It's a particularly fascinating hobby of mine." Rising up out of the floor came a big ray gun; gleaming and beeping. "Do you know what this is, Mr. Holmes?" She patted the console.

"Obviously. It's a death ray gun, manufactured from time-lord technology." He raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do? Kill the Doctor again?"

"Oh no. I have someone else for that. This, Mr. Holmes, is for one purpose and one purpose only." She flipped a switch on the console; powering it up and aiming it towards Sherlock. "This is for the sole purpose….of killing YOU!"

"No! Sherlock!" John jolted upright; he was back in his own bed, in his own flat.

"What is it, John?" A familiar voice said.

"Sherlock? Oh, I had the WORST nightmare."

"Really? Tell me about it." John felt a ghost of a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, you were there, and we were travelling with the Doctor. The Master had killed Amy and Rory; and imprisoned River. The funny thing is though; The Master looked a lot like you." John reached to touch the hand on his shoulder. "And this woman…she wanted to kill you." He grabbed in the direction of Sherlock's voice. "I wish I could see you. Why is it so bloody dark?"

"It's alright, John. Just go back to sleep now." He gently pushed John down; pulling the covers around him. "I'll be here." He planted a kiss softly on John's head. "Sweet dreams." He got up, took one last look at his friend, and then slowly started to fade. The only thing that was left, were words left hanging in the air. They were: "Goodbye, John."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I wrote this yesterday. I don't really know why I did it like this; maybe I was feeling sad for some reason. Anyway, the chapter is Post-Reichenbach. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Characters mentioned belong to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.**

**Blue TARDIS Everdeen**

_Chapter Ten: The Scarlet Letters_

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow. Right. Yes. Bye." The short man hung up his mobile. _I really didn't want to have to deal with this now, but I might as well now that…_He slid down the wall; ending up on the floor. _If only I had gotten to him in time…._He wiped away the tears that stung his eyes; although he was used to it by now. He put his head to his knees and started rocking back and forth. He stayed like that for awhile; not hearing his friend come into the room.

"Hey…are you alright?" She says. The man lifts his head slowly; coming to meet the woman's eyes. She could see his eyes were bright with tears.

"What do you think? I lost my best friend. How would you feel if you were in my situation?" He put his head down again. "I don't think you would understand."

"Well, you know I'm his friend too, right? I feel sad just like you." She played with the ends of her scarf. "I just want you to know that I cancelled my shift." The man looked up again.

"Really? Why?"

"Because. I can't bear to see you like this. I wanted to talk to you. To hear about…" She drifted off; not wanting to say the words. "Oh! I just remembered; I brought you a present." She pulled a lumpy, hastily wrapped package out of her rucksack. "I think it might cheer you up a bit." The man hesitantly took the package; nothing could cheer him up. He pulled at the corner of the paper, seeing if it would give. He scowled; tossing the present aside.

"Do I have to open it now?"

The woman laughed. "You don't have to. I just wanted to let you know." She reached out her hand; the man took it. She pulled him up; then wrapped him in a hug. "You can save it for later if you want." She buried her face in his shoulder.

"Thank you, Molly. You're a good friend." They separated; then he walked over to the many shelves of his flat; almost bare. He'd removed most of _HIS_ stuff after he…went. He stood on the tips of his toes; reaching onto the top shelf. He pulled down a little black moleskin notebook.

"This…I haven't…I haven't seen this since…" He rubbed the cover tenderly.

"That was his, wasn't it? I remember seeing him write in it when he came over."

The man sat down on his chair; which was now sitting alone in the big room. He started thumbing through the book; the aroma of the yellowed pages filling his nostrils. One of the pages was different than the others, though. The page was white; it looked out of place. He pulled it out; his eyes squinting to read the print.

'John.' It said. 'When you see this, I will probably be gone. I just wanted to let you know that ever since that night on Northumberland Street, I have always thought of you as my friend. My only friend. I have left something for you in my side table drawer. I hope you will be able to put it to good use.' The note was signed: 'Your faithful friend and partner, Sherlock.'

John crumpled the tear-stained paper in his hands. "That's Sherlock. I wouldn't be surprised if he left me a tin full of old teeth." He winced; the joke made the pain worse. "He's always had such rubbish writing." He stood up, grabbing Molly's arm for support.

"Do you want me to come with you when you go to his room?" Molly said; her voice thick with concern.

"No, I think I can manage." He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks again." He walked off; picking up Molly's package on his way. He walked slowly down the hallway; only pausing when he heard the outside door close. _Oh, Molly. Bless her for trying to help me. Nobody can help me now. Nobody except Sherlock. _He stopped in front of Sherlock's door; his fingers lingering over the door knob. He closed his eyes and took a breath. In one move, he opened the door and stepped inside. He didn't open his eyes until his legs found the bed. Lowering himself down and putting the package aside, he opened the drawer. Inside, he found a small, rectangular shaped package; perfectly wrapped with deep red paper. It was complete with a bow made out of string_. God, it's the same colour as his dressing gown._ He opened it quickly, not wanting to linger on the painful memory. It was Sherlock's magnifier. _That sod. Only he would think I could 'make some use out of this.'_ He turned it over in his hands; his fingers taking in the smooth black plastic and glass. He set it aside gently; turning his attention towards the bigger package. He pulled at the tape holding it together until it sprung open suddenly. He could see a corner of dark navy blue fabric. _What? This looks like…_he pulled the paper off all the way; the contents spilling out onto the bed. He lifted it out slowly; not wanting to wrinkle it. _Oh. He would never leave this behind._ There was a note in the pocket; it was written in Molly's curly script:

_'Dear John, I managed to knick this off of him before I did the post-mortem. I figured you would get more use out of these than I could. I think he would want you to have them. Love, Molly. Xo'_ He dropped the note; burying his face in the soft fabric of the coat. _Damnit Sherlock! I miss you! I miss your bloody mood swings, your body parts in the fridge, the violin music._ He started to cry; the tears that have been threatening to spill this entire night. _Come back, please. For me._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I accidentally TorchHitchLock. Is that even a thing? For those of you who don't know, that's Torchwood/Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy/Sherlock. **

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

**Blue TARDIS Everdeen**

* * *

><p><em><span>Chapter Eleven: An Unexpected Visitor<span>_

"John, take a break.

"No, Sarah. I'm fine. Really."

"John. He's been gone for a year and half now. Don't you think you should move on?

John shot his colleague a glare. "No. You don't know how important he was to me. No one does." He grabbed his coat from off the rack and stormed out of Sarah's office.

"Jack."

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, I'm fine." Jack Harkness was in the Hub, (or what was left of it anyway.) Only he and Gwen Cooper were left of the five brave people that made up Torchwood Three in Cardiff. "I'm going to the pub." He held out his elbow. "Care to join me, Miss Cooper?

Gwen smiled. "No Jack. I have to go and see Rhys." She grabbed her coat from the sofa and started toward the entrance to the hub. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Gwen. I'll be fine." He put on a smile to hide what was going on inside him. "You go and be with Rhys.

She left him there then, with the memories of the team that once was.

"What'll it be, mate?" The bartender said.

"Just a beer, thanks." John was sitting at the same pub where, just three years earlier, he had met Mike Stamford for the first time since medical school. The bartender slid over his glass; the froth from the beer spilling out over the top. He stared down at it; watching the froth melt down into the golden liquid beneath. _This is my first beer I've had in a year and a half. I've almost forgotten the taste._

He very carefully lifted the glass to his lips and took a cautious sip. He set the glass back down, swallowed the golden liquid, and then let out a satisfied "Ahhhhh."

Just then, he felt another person sit down beside him.

"George, the usual please. And don't forget the vodka this time. It doesn't taste the same without it.

_Wait a minute. I know that voice. _John turned to the voice and said"Jack? Jack is that you?"

Jack turned toward John. "John? Hello John! Long time no see, ay?" He caught his drink that the bartender slid towards him without a blink.

"What kind of drink is that?

"Oh this thing? I believe it's called a Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blaster." He brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back; downing the clear liquid. He slammed the glass back down, wiped his mouth with the back of his and said"It's the equivalent of having your brain bashed in with a lemon wrapped around a brick.

"I've never heard of it before.

"Really? I would've thought that you would have…especially on your travels." Jack paused to look over John. "Still got the towel I see.

John reached up and touched the light blue terry cloth towel draped around his neck. "If you want to survive, you've got to know where your towel is." John tucked the towel underneath his green coat. "So what brings you here, Captain?"

"Oh, the usual. I'm actually off-duty right now. If you can believe it." He motioned for the bartender to get him another shot of his drink. "A lot of Hell has been happening here, John.

"So I've heard. I wasn't completely cut off from earth when I was hitchhiking. I have my ways to keep tabs on you." He took another sip of his beer. "Do you…..would you mind if I tried one of those pan-galaga gargle banger things?

Jack chuckled. "Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blaster. And sure." He slid the tiny glass over. "Just be careful. The after affects are disorienting. Literally." Just then, Jack's vortex manipulator glowed red. "Damn. I was hoping NOT to rush off." He downed his second drink, and said"John, I'm sorry to rush out like this, but I have to go." He put his hand on John's shoulder. "If you ever need me, for whatever reason, don't hesitate to call." And with that, he left; his long navy coat flapping after him.

_He reminds me of Sherlock when he does that. _John chuckled to himself. _Maybe I will take him up on his offer. A visit with an old friend would do me good. _


End file.
